


Minerva's Song

by cosmic_llin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Backstory, Bullying, Childhood, Early Work, Family Drama, Gen, Growing Up, Murder, Mystery, School, Unfinished and Discontinued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-20
Updated: 2005-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All her life Minerva McGonagall has been waiting to go to Hogwarts, wondering what it will be like when she finally, truly joins the wizarding world. What she will find there is friendship, fun and triumph; but also tragedy and mortal peril.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is discontinued and WILL NOT be completed.
> 
> Characters do not belong to me, I am making no profit.

It had been almost a week. Minerva had sat by the library window every day, watching and waiting. She sighed deeply.

She was a rather thin girl, a few months shy of twelve, with a serious look in her dark eyes and long, black hair tied up with a ribbon. She had been sitting very still all afternoon, gazing out of the window. It was raining, although it was summer. She hoped that the owls wouldn't mind. Did they still send owls when it was raining? She didn't know.

The stillness of the room seemed to evaporate as the door flew open and Jessel ran into the room, skipped the few steps to the window and jumped onto Minerva's lap, settling in with a contended laugh.

Jessel McGonagall was the very opposite of her sister - where Minerva was still and quiet, Jessel was lively and vivacious. Her rosy complexion and blond curls were a stark contrast to Minerva's paleness. She had just turned eight that month.

'Min, you aren't still watching for owls, are you?' she asked incredulously. 'They come and find you anyway, you know.'

'I know. I want to look out anyway.'

'But why? What difference does it make? You already know what it's going to be.'

'I still want to see the letter, just to be sure,' Minerva explained.

'Well, you'll see it when the owl arrives. Until then, wouldn't you rather come and play with me instead of sitting here on your own?'

Minerva didn't mind sitting alone, in fact she rather enjoyed it, but she always found it difficult to refuse Jessel anything.

'Well, alright, just for a little while.'

Minerva let herself be led out of the library; half-listening to Jessel's uninterrupted flow of chatter.

It was some time later. Jessel was tired of playing catch and wanted to play another game.

'Let's play at Hogwarts!' she suggested, jumping up and down. 'I'll be the headmistress and you can be a first year, like you're going to be.'

'Hogwarts has a headmaster, not a headmistress,' Minerva pointed out feebly as Jessel began to arrange the contents on their room to her liking.

'Now, this is my desk, and I have a big quill, and you come and stand in front of my desk, just here, because you're going to be Sorted. I have a big magic sword, and I start to chant a magical...'

'Jessel, nobody knows how you get Sorted into your Houses. It's a big secret.'

'So, if nobody knows, why shouldn't I make it up?'

Minerva was at a loss, so it was fortunate that, at that moment, their mother called up the stairs.

'Min! There's an owl!'

Minerva didn't usually run - and certainly not down stairs, which was dangerous - but she did now, her feet only landing on every other stair, in her haste to reach the kitchen. When she got there, her mother was holding out the letter, and the owl was eating some seed. Sure enough, the letter bore the Hogwarts crest. Minerva tore it open and scanned the contents.

'I'm going to Hogwarts,' she said, with a widening smile. 'I'm really, really going to Hogwarts!'

Sarah McGonagall hugged her daughter tightly for a moment, as Minerva read out the letter. Jessel had followed Minerva downstairs and was peering over her sister's shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

'Father will be glad, won't he?' Minerva asked her mother, anxiously.

'I'm sure he will,' Sarah replied, 'why don't you tell him when he gets home from work?'

'I will,' said Minerva.

'Alright then, you girls go and play now. I have a lot of work to do.' Sarah turned back to her baking.

Minerva watched her mother rolling the pastry out for a moment, then followed Jessel back up the stairs and into their room. She thought it was a little unfair that her mother couldn't use any charms or spells to help with her cooking. Minerva often wondered how her parents had ever met. Her mother had been a typist back then - very beautiful, with hair the colour of honey and so slim that she looked as if the wind would pick her up and carry her away - but still just a young Muggle working in a typing pool. And her father had been an up-and-coming young wizard in the Ministry of Magic. How did two people from such different worlds even meet, let alone fall in love and get married?

'Min, you're not playing properly,' Jessel complained.

'Sorry, Jess, I was thinking,' she said, turning her attention back to the game.

At three minutes to five that evening, Minerva was sitting at the kitchen table, watching the clock. Her father always arrived home at seven minutes past five exactly. Now, she supposed, he would be clearing away his work, ready to finish at precisely 5pm.

Sarah chopped vegetables and Jessel was helping. Minerva usually helped too, but today she didn't have to, as a special treat for getting into Hogwarts.

'Won't it be fun when Min and I can do magic?' Jessel said, filling a pan full of water ready for the carrots that Sarah was chopping. 'Then Mam, you'd never have to do any housework; everything would be nice and easy. Didn't you ever want to learn some magic, Mam?'

'Oh, not really,' said Sarah, 'No way I could learn more than a little bit, anyway. You either have it or you don't. I sometimes think...'

Whatever Sarah sometimes thought would never be known, as Domnall McGonagall chose that moment to apparate into the kitchen. Five minutes early.

'Domnall, what's wrong?' Sarah asked, laying the vegetable knife on the counter and moving swiftly over to him. 'Did something happen at work?'

'I could do with a stiff drink,' was all he said, as he sat heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

Sarah rushed to prepare one, and Minerva and Jessel watched their father anxiously. His eyebrows were drawn together in a frown that was deeper than the one he habitually wore. He took the glass that Sarah handed him and drank it down in one gulp.

'There was some trouble at the Ministry today,' he finally said.

'What kind of trouble?' asked Jessel.

'Nothing you girls need to worry about,' Domnall said, 'Go to your room, please, both of you.'

Minerva rose from her seat and headed out of the kitchen. After a moment, Jessel followed. As she closed the door behind her, Minerva was turning up the stairs. Jessel grabbed her wrist and motioned to the door.

'We can't listen; that's bad!' Minerva whispered.

'Well, don't you want to know what's going on?' asked Jessel. 'I'm staying; you go if you like.'

Minerva hovered for a moment, torn, but in the end curiosity won out - not to mention the fact that anything Jessel knew, she, as the big sister, should automatically know too. She nodded and the two of them pressed their ears against the door.

'I don't know that I should tell you either, Sarah,' they heard their father say. 'After all, I doubt this will affect anyone outside of the Ministry.'

'Domnall, of course it's up to you, but I wish you would tell me. Did something bad happen?'

'There was a murder.'

'A murder? Who? Do they know who did it?'

'A clerk working in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office was stabbed.'

'Stabbed? Not cursed?'

'Yes, it's most distressing. They discovered the boy several minutes ago, they cleared everyone out early to search for the killer, they think he may still be in the building. I don't understand how a stab-wound could kill a wizard, even a young one...'

Minerva and Jessel looked at one another in horror. Occasionally, if their father was in a very, very good mood, he would tell them stories of wizard battles in the past - they had heard tales of terrible curses used on people, but a stabbing? It was unheard of.

They heard the scrape of the chair as their mother stood up, and bolted up the stairs as quickly as they could manage it, reaching their room just as the kitchen door opened and Sarah called:

'Girls! Wash your hands for tea, please!'

Tea was a sombre affair that night. Even if the girls hadn't listened at the door, they would have known that something was wrong. Their father was even more surly than usual, and said nothing as they ate their vegetables and pushed their meat around their plates. Their mother was quiet too, and the atmosphere was such that even Jessel didn't feel much like talking.

Finally, as Sarah was clearing the plates away, she ventured:

'Minerva got some rather good news today, Domnall.'

'Hmm? What?' He looked at Sarah quizzically.

'Minerva, dear. She got her Hogwarts letter today.'

'Oh.'

'And I'm sure you're very pleased about it,' Sarah prompted.

'Oh, yes. Well done, Minerva,' Domnall said absently, before turning his attention back to a stain on the tablecloth.

'Thanks,' Minerva said, blinking back hot tears that threatened to fall. She looked down too.

After tea, Minerva went into the library, and played the first movement of Winter, from the Four Seasons, on her mother's violin for a long time, until she felt better.

It was a week later. Minerva was reeling from her first ever journey by Portkey, all the way to London! She and Jessel had wanted to look around, but her father had said that they shouldn't hang about, and was taking them straight to Diagon Alley. They approached a building that the Muggles seemed to be ignoring, and Minerva stared as her father pushed open the door and herded them into the room. It was a pub, somewhat smoky and dark, but there was a hum of conversation, and the man at the bar greeted them as they entered.

'Domnall, how goes it?'

'Not bad, not bad at all,' said Minerva's father.

'Going shopping are ye? First year at Hogwarts, I bet.'

Domnall nodded once, but was distracted as another man across the room waved at him.

'Oh, that's Filius Greenwarble,' he said. 'I have some rather urgent business with him. Sarah, why don't you take the girls and I'll catch up with you later.'

Without even waiting for an answer, he left and was far into the dark corners of the pub before Sarah could open her mouth to respond.

'But Mam, he said he would take us around Diagon Alley!' Jessel protested loudly.

Minerva didn't say anything. She had half expected this and had tried to be prepared for it.

'Never mind,' said Sarah briskly, 'I'm sure we'll still find everything we need, won't we, Min? Chin up, girls.'

She took each girl by the hand and marched briskly towards the back door, where the entrance to Diagon Alley was. Minerva felt that she was a little too old to hold her mother's hand, but just once she didn't mind. She squeezed Sarah's hand back and tried to smile.

The first stop was Ollivanders. Minerva had seen her father use his wand sometimes, but she was never allowed to touch it. So it was with some excitement, and not a little trepidation, that she entered the shop and approached the counter, with her mother and Jessel not far behind. How would she know which wand to get? Were they all the same?

Minerva jumped as a man appeared suddenly behind the counter. 'Good afternoon,' he said, 'I see it's another McGonagall, come for her first wand. Try this one.'

He flipped open a narrow box and presented her with a wand. Minerva waved it uncertainly. Nothing happened.

'Hmm, didn't think so,' said the man, 'and this one?'

Minerva waved that one too. Nothing happened. Then another, then another. Was something wrong? Maybe she didn't have any magic in her at all - after all, she had never really tried any. How were you supposed to know? As she tried and rejected wand after wand, she felt her pulse hammering madly. What if they wouldn't let her go to Hogwarts after all? What if they had only let her in because of a mistake?

By this time, Mr Ollivander was taking several wands out at once and laying them down on the counter for Minerva to try. The row seemed to stretch forever - wands upon wands, and none of them were working for her.

Suddenly, she saw it. It was the strangest feeling - there it was, nestled among all the other wands, seeming to look almost smug. She didn't know what had made it jump out at her, from all the other wands. It was a dark red, about nine inches long, and smooth, but not shiny. She picked it up, and she felt a warmth that spread all the way up her arm and through her body until it reached the tips of her toes. She smiled broadly.

'This is it,' she announced.

'Yes, I can see that,' said Mr Ollivander. 'How unusual. Yes, most unusual to see that degree of control in one so young. Nine-and-a-half inches, beech and kelpie hair. How very interesting.'

Minerva's smile did not diminish as he packed the wand up for her and her mother paid for it.

Now that Minerva was no longer nervous about getting a wand, the rest of the shopping seemed a much more exciting prospect, and the three of them began to enjoy themselves in earnest as she was fitted for her robes, chose a cauldron, looked through assortments of fascinating-smelling herbs and hunted the shelves of Flourish and Blotts for the books on her reading list.

'Well, just one thing left to go!' said Sarah brightly as they struggled out of Flourish and Blotts with all of Minerva's bags and boxes.

'But, I thought we had everything?' said Minerva, scanning her list.

'You don't have a cat,' Sarah said with a grin.

'But, I thought Father said...'

'Well, Father isn't here right now, is he? Come on.'

Minerva and Jessel exchanged surprised glances at this uncharacteristic act of rebellion from their mother. Minerva felt like jumping up and down, but she limited herself to just a big smile, as Sarah led them into the pet shop.

'The sign in the window said there were some kittens?' Sarah asked the man behind the counter.

'Aye,' he said, 'only one left, mind.'

He reached under the counter and picked up the kitten, putting it down next to the till. Minerva immediately picked it up and looked seriously into its eyes.

'Course, you can see why it didn't sell,' said the man.

They could. The kitten was coal black all over, except for one snowy-white ear.

'People want a proper black cat, see,' the man said, 'for the look of the thing. Poor mite - all his brothers and sisters sold...'

'I want him,' said Minerva, 'he's beautiful. I don't care if he isn't all black. Doesn't he look intelligent?'

For the moment, the cat looked asleep - he had apparently dozed off in Minerva's arms. Sarah paid the man and they walked back down Diagon Alley.

That night, Minerva tucked the kitten into his little basket before climbing into bed herself.

'This time tomorrow, you'll be there,' said Jessel from her own bed. 'Will you write to me often and tell me what it's like?'

'I'll write every single day!' Minerva promised. 'And it will be hardly any time at all before you're at Hogwarts too.'

'That's nice,' said Jessel. 'Goodnight, Min.'

With that, Jessel fell asleep. But Minerva was still wide awake. How could she possibly sleep? She was going to Hogwarts tomorrow!


	2. Chapter 2

That morning, Minerva could barely eat her porridge. She was so excited and nervous that she didn't feel the least bit hungry, but still she made a valiant effort and managed to finish most of it, because she knew it was good for her. Jessel, as usual, was making most of the conversation.

'What House do you think you'll be in, Min? Are you nervous about being Sorted? Would you rather be in Slytherin or Hufflepuff?'

'She'll be a Gryffindor,' said Domnall shortly, not looking up from his Daily Prophet.

'Well, that would be nice, but we'll be very proud, whichever House you end up in,' Sarah said.

'Ravenclaw sounds like a nice House, and it's for the clever people, so you could end up there!' suggested Jessel, busily pouring extra sugar on her porridge.

'Gryffindor,' Domnall repeated sternly. 'I'll not see a daughter of mine in Ravenclaw. Too much thinking, not enough doing, that lot.'

Minerva put her spoon down then, unable to eat another bite.

After breakfast, Minerva put the kitten into his travelling basket, and checked her trunk again to make sure she wouldn't leave anything behind.

'Aren't you forgetting something?' Sarah asked, as she came into the hallway to see Minerva locking her trunk for the seventh time that morning.

'I don't think so...' Minerva said, frowning, 'I'm sure I checked everything...'

Sarah reached behind her and brought out the violin in its case, and a thick wad of sheet music.

'You'll be needing this,' she said.

Minerva's heart leapt into her throat. Surely that wasn't for her?

'But Mam, that's  _your_ violin! Won't you miss it if I take it?'

'Oh, I hardly play it these days anyway. You're much better than I am. Go on, Min, take it.'

Minerva took the case by the handle and hugged her mother tightly.

'Thank you, Mam! You're so good to me!' she said.

Soon after, they were on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, watching Minerva's luggage being loaded onto the Hogwarts Express.

'Well, take care of yourself, write to me lots, and tell me if there's anything you need,' said Sarah, hugging her daughter once more.

'Yes, good luck, Minerva,' said her father stiffly, extending his hand for her to shake. There were no hugs where her father was concerned.

Minerva turned to Jessel, whose eyes were brimming with tears.

'Don't go!' she wailed, wrapping her arms round Minerva and clinging tightly. 'I changed my mind; I don't want you to go to Hogwarts! I want you to stay with me! Min, don't go!'

Minerva hugged her sister back, trying not to cry herself.

'I'll write to you all the time!' she promised, 'and I'll be back at Christmas, darling, it's no time at all!'

Minerva kissed her sister and pulled away. She climbed onto the train and found an empty compartment, set the cat basket down and went to the window to wave goodbye to her family. Jessel was still crying. The guard blew his whistle and the train began to pull out of the station. Minerva and Jessel both waved frantically. Minerva didn't stop waving until the station itself was nothing but a dot. Then she stopped, sat down, and let the kitten out of the basket to sit on her lap.

A few moments later, the door of the compartment swung open and a boy stood there, looking in at her with a wide grin.

'Mind if I sit here?' he asked.

She smiled and shrugged, but didn't say anything. He sat opposite her. He was a rather tall, thin boy, with green eyes and curly brown hair. He was still grinning, and one of his teeth was chipped.

'I'm Cerrig ap Caradog,' he told her, 'third year, Gryffindor. You a first year?'

'Yes.'

'And your name is...'

'Minerva McGonagall,' she said in a small voice.

'Nice to meet you, Minerva.'

She stared at him a little nervously. She didn't really know any boys. She and Jessel had never gone to school; Sarah had taught them, and Minerva didn't play with the other children in the village much. Was talking to boys different than talking to girls? Since she had no idea what to say, and it was rude to stare, Minerva turned her attention back to the kitten, bobbing a button on a piece of string for him to catch.

'What's his name?' Cerrig asked after a few moments of watching her play with the cat.

'Kosey,' she said.

'That's a good name, where did you find it?'

'In a book. It's Egyptian. It means lion.'

Ah, the ancient Egyptians worshipped cats, didn't they?'

'Yes, that's why I chose that name.'

'That's pretty clever. And you know, the symbol of Gryffindor house is the lion. Best house of all, it is. Do you have any idea which House you're headed for? Which do you think is the best?'

'Slytherin!' called a loud voice from the corridor, and the door was flung open to reveal a girl. She was about Minerva's height, and black, with hair in little knots all over her head. She came into the compartment and sat down, stretching out luxuriously on the seat.

'I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing your conversation,' she said, 'and I think that Slytherin is most definitely the place to be!'

'Oh, really?' said Cerrig, 'and why is that?'

'Well, I love snakes, and I look  _ever_ so good in green and silver,' she said. 'But mostly it's because Slytherin is the House for really ambitious witches and wizards, and I just know I'm destined to be famous and important! I can't wait to be Sorted!'

At the word 'Sorted', she gestured expansively, then fell back onto the seat, looking up at the ceiling.

'Can't argue with that, I suppose,' said Cerrig with a shrug. 'I'm Cerrig, this is Minerva. She's a first year too.'

'I'm Jamaica,' said the girl, 'Jamaica Jordan. Isn't this exciting? I can hardly wait to stay away from home; I almost never left London before now. Minerva, what House did you say you wanted to be in?'

'Gryffindor, I expect,' said Minerva. 'My father was in Gryffindor.'

'Ah, fiddlesticks, everyone wants to be in Gryffindor!' said Jamaica. 'Never mind, I won't hold it against you. Want a chocolate frog?'

The journey passed quite companionably, and Minerva was surprised to discover that conversation with boys was rather like conversation with anyone else, and Jamaica made it easier because she talked so very much. Minerva didn't say a great deal, but then she never did at home; she was content to listen and find things out. It turned out that Cerrig was Welsh, but he said Scotland was nearly as good as Wales, so that was alright. He had a lizard, but she was in her travelling cage, with the rest of his luggage. His favourite subject was Charms. He liked sherbet lemons. He had chipped his tooth playing a game called Quidditch, which Minerva had read about but never seen played, because her father said that brooms were an undignified way to get about and Quidditch was a waste of time. Afterward, Cerrig had decided that he liked the chip, and decided to keep it that way.

As for Jamaica, it turned out that she had four brothers, lived in London and had a Muggle mother and Wizard father, just like Minerva. She had gone to a Muggle school. What she wanted most of all was to be famous, but she hadn't decided for what.

It was getting dark, and they had been travelling for several hours by the time Cerrig said:

'But Minerva, you've hardly told us anything about you! We're almost there, and we've barely let you get a word in edgeways!'

'We'll have to watch out for her; she knows all sorts of things about us now,' said Jamaica, with a smirk.

'Well, there isn't much to tell,' said Minerva, taking a bite from her chocolate frog, 'just that my father is a Wizard, my mother is a Muggle, and I have a sister called Jessel. And I like... knowing things. And music. I play the violin.'

'Really? That's so romantic!' said Jamaica. 'I wish I could play a musical instrument, but all I can play is football. That's what happens when you have four brothers and there's no room in the back yard for Quidditch.'

'I tried to learn to play the harp, but I wasn't very good,' Cerrig added. 'No ear for a tune, me. My father despairs of me - all the men of our family for generations have been singers, then along I came, completely tone-deaf!'

Just then, the train, which had been slowing, came to a halt. Doors began to bang up and down the train. Minerva bundled Kosey back into his travel basket, and she, Cerrig and Jamaica followed the others onto the dark platform.

'First years! First years, to me, please!' called a woman's voice.

Minerva and Jamaica headed towards the voice, gripping the cat basket between them so as not to be separated by the heaving crowd. They waved goodbye to Cerrig as he headed in the opposite direction.

'See you at the Gryffindor table, Minerva!' he called just as the crowd swallowed him up. Minerva smiled, feeling a little more confident.

They reached the woman who was shouting. She was a tall, rather stout woman wearing a deerstalker hat and a very long, green scarf.

'Is that all of you?' she asked. 'Come along then! First years, follow me, this way!'

Minerva and Jamaica stayed close to the woman, and were the first to climb into the boats she led them to. They could see the castle on the other side of the lake, brightly lit with torches.

The boat ride, was brief, but cold, and Minerva was glad when they reached the shore of the lake, then followed the woman up into the castle itself. They all gasped and stared at the many paintings and ornaments as they walked through to an antechamber, where a thin, bored-looking man waited with a wad of paper.

'First-years, I am Professor Cook, head of Ravenclaw House and Deputy Headmaster,' he announced. 'Follow me to be Sorted, please. No talking.'

They followed him through the door, in silence except for a few giggles and whispers, which stopped entirely as they entered the Great Hall.

Minerva gazed at the room they had found themselves in. It was huge, hung with banners showing the colours of the four Houses, and the ceiling was covered in stars. There were four long tables, one for each House, and right now everyone, from every House, was looking at the first years about to be Sorted. The first years watched as Professor Cook brought out a stool and set a battered old hat down on it.

Minerva gasped as a tear on the brim of the hat opened itself and began to sing!

'Welcome all to Hogwarts

Where you'll learn the magic arts,

I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat -

I see what's in your hearts;

And so I choose where you will stay

Of the great houses four,

One for each founder of the school

Who lived in days of yore.

For Hufflepuff the youngsters who

Worked hardest were preferred,

The loyal and the honest,

The most kind in deed and word.

Now Ravenclaw selected just

The wise and clever sort,

Those who gave each thing they saw

Deep and considered thought.

Gryffindor, though, favoured

Students who were unafraid,

Those who would protect the weak

And give the helpless aid.

The things that Slytherin admired

Were cunning and ambition,

Determined folk who planned for life

With shrewdness and precision.

So now you can discover

Where it is that you belong,

Just put me on your head - you'll see!

And this concludes my song!

Professor Cook drummed his fingers on his paper and looked at his watch as the hat sang its song. Once it had finished, he consulted his list and cleared his throat loudly.

'Abbot, Julian,' he said.

A very small boy, with hair combed precisely down the middle, approached the stool with some trepidation.

'Well, sit down and put it on, boy, we haven't got all night,' snapped Cook.

Julian did as he was told and jammed the hat firmly onto his head. The first years held their breath.

'HUFFLEPUFF!' yelled the hat.

Julian took it off and scrambled down from the stool, then ran over to the Hufflepuff table, where everyone was cheering madly. Next was Joseph Biggins, who was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and was accepted with as much cheering as Julian had been. Minerva counted her fellow first-years, trying to estimate how long it would be before it was her turn.

'Jordan, Jamaica,' announced Professor Cook.

Minerva squeezed Jamaica's hand to wish her luck, and the girl went to sit on the stool.

'SLYTHERIN!' the hat called, and Jamaica emerged beaming with pride, striding confidently over to the welcome of her fellow Slytherins.

Shortly, it was Minerva's turn, and she tried to seem confident as she went to sit on the stool, and lowered the hat onto her head.

It was dark and musty inside the hat, and she could hear it musing.

'Hmm...hardworking, I see, and plenty of brains...determined and driven too...I expect you would excel in any of the Houses...'

Minerva's heart thudded against her ribcage. She  _had_  to get into Gryffindor! What would her father say otherwise?

The hat fell silent, and was quiet for what seemed like an eternity before it finally shouted:

'GRYFFINDOR!'

Minerva let out a sigh of relief and took off the hat, hurrying on wobbly legs over to the Gryffindor table. The cheering was deafening, and everyone was smiling at her. She smiled back. She was about to take a seat at the end of the table, but Cerrig waved her over and so she went to sit with him instead.

Minerva was so relieved that she barely noticed that a feast had suddenly appeared before them, but as soon as she began to eat she realised how hungry she was and attacked the food with enthusiasm. In between mouthfuls, Cerrig introduced her to some of the other Gryffindors in his year, including two boys called Toby Weasley and Bedevere McKinnon, and a girl called Persis Andrews. She liked them all, but they seemed so much older and wiser than her that she was a little intimidated.

Once the pudding arrived, she felt brave enough to move down the table to sit with the other newly Sorted Gryffindors.

'Hello,' she said, shuffling onto the end of the bench with a nervous smile,' 'I'm Minerva McGonagall. Um... do you mind if I sit here?'

'Not at all!' said the blond girl she sat next to, 'I'm Mildred Bowman, this is Alison Prewett, Helena Swann, Bevan Winter and Tully Fenwick. We don't know what those others are called, they didn't sit with us,' she gestured to the other small group of first-years, who had ended up on the other end of the table.

'Say, how do you know those older pupils already?' asked Tully. 'We were awfully impressed!'

'I just happened to be in the same compartment as Cerrig on the train,' explained Minerva, 'See, that's him there with the curly hair. He said we could ask him if we needed any help with anything.'

'Isn't that kind?' said Helena. 'I hope I won't need any help, but I'm sure I will - I don't know how I'll ever get used to this place, it all seems so big! And is it true the staircases move? How are we ever going to find our way? And do you think we'll  _ever_  learn proper magic? I'm so afraid that I just won't understand anything!'

Minerva was a little concerned about the same things, but for the moment she was too happy to let it bother her. Once the feast was over, they followed the other Gryffindors up the stairs. Minerva looked only briefly at the big, round Common Room before heading up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, waving goodbye to Cerrig, Bevan and Tully who were about to ascend the other steps. She, Helena, Mildred and Alison chose four beds close to one another and changed quickly. Minerva took Kosey's travel basket and let the kitten out to sleep at the foot of her bed. She climbed under the covers just as the other two girls entered. Minerva was awake just long enough to learn that their names were Gail Turberry and Lucy Marley before the excitement of the day caught up with her and she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Minerva woke early. For several minutes she lay still, thinking about the events of the day before. Somehow it seemed more real now, waking up in her four-poster for the first time, seeing the morning sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains, and knowing that the whole of Hogwarts was there for her to explore. She hugged herself with excitement at the thought, and slipped quietly out of bed, since the others were still asleep. 

She dressed quickly, took a bit of parchment and a quill, picked Kosey up and headed down to the Common Room. It was quite in here too, and Minerva took the opportunity to have a good look around before settling down in a chair to write a letter to Jessel, detailing everything that had happened to her so far. 

By the time she had filled several inches of parchment with her small, neat handwriting, some of the others had come down. 

'Gosh, Minerva, how long have you been up?' asked Mildred, staring incredulously at the long letter. 

'A little over an hour, 'said Minerva, 'I'm writing to my sister.' 

'Do you want to come down to breakfast in a minute? Helena and Alison are still trying to drag themselves out of bed, but I don't expect it will be much longer.' 

'I'd love to,' said Minerva, 'I'll just finish this off...' 

She signed the letter and added a dozen kisses before folding it up and tucking it into the pocket of her robe. She could post it after breakfast, once she found out where they kept the post-owls. When Helena and Alison stumbled down the stairs from the dormitory the four of them made their way to breakfast. It was a thrill to nod and say 'good morning' to the painting of the Fat Lady which guarded the entrance to the common room. At home they had only had Muggle furnishings; Minerva's father didn't bother with domestic matters, and her mother generally only had access to Muggle shops. Helena was delighted too - she had never even heard of pictures that could talk and move, being from a Muggle family. 

They succeeded in getting to the Great Hall, only getting lost twice, and they all swelled a little with pride as they sat, with studied casualness, at the Gryffindor table. They were almost the only ones there, since it was a Sunday, and only first-years had the enthusiasm to be up so early on a weekend. 

Minerva was buttering her third slice of toast when she felt a tug on her plait. She turned around. 

'Jamaica!' 

'Good morning!' said Jamaica, with a wide smile. 'Did you enjoy your first night?' 

'Very much, thank you!' said Minerva. 'Did you?' 

'Yes! Isn't it great here? You wouldn't  _believe_  how great our Common Room is! Did you enjoy the Sorting? Wasn't the feast good? Mind if I sit here?' 

Minerva had a mouthful of toast, so she just nodded at Jamaica's questions, and obligingly shuffled along the bench so there was space for her to sit down. Jamaica grabbed a slice of toast and smiled widely at the other girls. Minerva swallowed her toast and said: 

'Everyone, this is Jamaica; she's in Slytherin, we met on the train yesterday. Jamaica, this is Mildred, Helena and Alison.' 

They all greeted Jamaica cheerfully, and Alison passed her the water jug and a clean glass. 

'Does anyone want to come exploring after breakfast?' Jamaica asked. 'I asked the girls in my House, but they wanted to unpack first.' 

'I'd like that,' said Minerva, 'I have to go and find the post-owls to send a letter to Jessel anyway.' 

'Oh, I don't know how you got started so early!' said Mildred. 'I was going to go back to the Common Room after breakfast and write to my family; I promised I would.' 

Helena and Alison wanted to unpack too, so once they had all finished eating they and Mildred headed back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Minerva and Jamaica shyly approached a Hufflepuff prefect who had just come down to breakfast, to ask the location of the Owlery. They discovered that it was in the West Tower, and set off to post Minerva's letter. 

When they arrived, they were a little awed by the huge room. There were hundreds of owls perching from floor to ceiling, and Jamaica let out a cry as she stepped on the remains of a mouse. Several of the owls hooted in irritation at the noise. 

'How do we get them to send my letter?' Minerva asked. 

'I don't know!' said Jamaica. 'At home there's only ever one at a time, so it's easy...' 

At that moment a large barn owl swooped from its perch far up near the roof and settled on the post by the door, holding out its leg for Minerva to attach her letter. 

'It looks as though the owls know better than we do,' said Minerva, nodding a thank-you to the owl as it hopped twice then flew out through one of the large, glassless windows. 

'Where shall we go next?' asked Jamaica. 'How about the Forbidden Forest?' She suggested with a mischievous grin. 

'Well, isn't it forbidden?' said Minerva, smiling. 

'Oh, I suppose the name would seem to imply that,' said Jamaica, 'oh well, never mind, eh? Let's go down and look at the lake.' 

The two girls spent an instructive morning wandering the grounds, looking at the flower beds, the Quidditch pitch and the greenhouses, before moving back into the castle to investigate the trophy room and armour gallery, the library, the astronomy tower and some of the less frightening dungeons. 

'I really don't think it's this way,' said Jamaica, frowning a little as they turned the corner into yet another long, unfamiliar corridor. 

'Well, if we just keep on going, we're bound to run out of castle sooner or later,' said Minerva, 'and lunch hasn't even started yet. We have plenty of time.' 

Jamaica brightened at the mention of lunch. 'I suppose you're right,' she said, 'and anyway, I'd much rather be lost at Hogwarts than found somewhere else!' 

Minerva agreed wholeheartedly. She was even a little disappointed when they reached the end of the corridor and found that it led out onto a landing they recognised. 

'Come on, let's get to the Great Hall in plenty of time for lunch!' said Jamaica, striding ahead. 'I'll see you later!' she called as they entered, going to sit with the other Slytherin first-years, while Minerva went to join Mildred, Helena, Alison, Tully and Bevan at the Gryffindor table. 

Suddenly, the weekend was over, and Minerva found herself waking up to her first day of classes. Excited, the Gryffindor first-years arrived at breakfast early again, where their Head of House, Professor Edwards, was handing out timetables. 

'We have Potions first,' said Helena, 'In one of the dungeons! That's with the Hufflepuffs. Then Transfiguration with the Slytherins. That'll be nice, Min, you and Jamaica will have a class together.' 

Jamaica had evidently realised the same thing, because she was waving her timetable at Minerva from across the Hall. Minerva waved back. 

They also had Herbology with the Ravenclaws, Charms with Slytherin again and Defence Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff. 

They finished breakfast quickly, and they were on the way out as Cerrig, Toby, Bedevere and Persis were coming in. Cerrig saw Minerva and smiled broadly at her. 

'Good luck on your first day, Minerva!' he said as they passed by one another. 

Potions was with Professor Edwards, a rather scruffy-looking woman who spent most of the lesson giving them a long talk about potion safety. She singled Minerva out especially to warn her of the dangers of long plaits in the Potions lab. A Hufflepuff girl named Tabitha Sherwin was told to be very careful not to let her long, wide sleeves catch in the cauldron fire. It was a little dull, but Professor Edwards promised that they would start on some simple potions in the next lesson. 

When they found the Transfiguration classroom, the Slytherins had already arrived, and Jamaica had saved a seat for Minerva. 

'Hello, Min, how was Potions?' she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued: 'We just had Herbology and it was amazing! You wouldn't believe the things they can do with plants! The greenhouses are full of exotic things; we'll get to try almost everything!' 

Minerva was about to reply when Professor Cook came in, slammed the door and glared at the pupils. 

'No talking, please,' he said, 'now, Transfiguration is the delicate art of transforming something into something else. It becomes more difficult with the size and complexity of the object to be transformed...' 

As Minerva listened, she found that, dry and uninspired as Professor Cook's delivery was, she was hanging on to his every word. She could hardly wait to start the practical part. Even the thought of turning a match into a needle seemed so exciting that it almost eclipsed everything she had done so far. 

Like Professor Edwards, Professor Cook spent most of the lesson telling them the rules of his classroom and explaining what the subject involved. In the last few minutes he taught them the incantation they needed for the needle to match spell, and let them all try. Minerva said the incantation again to make sure she had it absolutely perfect, before trying it with her wand too. 

'Oh, Jamaica, look!' 

Minerva's match had turned into a small, shiny needle, with a perfectly sharp point. There was no eye to thread the cotton through, but Minerva wasn't in the least discouraged, especially when Professor Cook nodded and said: 

'An excellent first attempt, Miss McGonagall.' 

Jamaica tried again, but her match stubbornly refused to change. Minerva said that she was sure it was a little pointier than it had been, and perhaps it really was. In any event, the bell rang then. Professor Cook asked them to keep trying the spell for their homework, and the first Transfiguration lesson was over. 

The first few weeks went past so quickly that Minerva barely had time to realise it, but at the same time, she almost felt that she had been at Hogwarts forever. She had grown so accustomed to the castle that she barely noticed when she walked through the corridor that turned you upside down, and she didn't give the moving, talking paintings a second glance, except to say hello to her particular friends among them. The ghosts were just like anyone else you met in the corridors, only it was nice to be a little more polite to them, because they were dead, after all. 

Jessel wrote to her often, and though they were short notes in response to Minerva's own long, detailed letters Minerva didn't mind. Jessel didn't have the patience to sit down and write for long periods, and what she did write was filled with affection. Her mother wrote too, at least once a week. Her father didn't write; but then Minerva hadn't expected him to. Her mother said that Domnall was very busy - the stabbing at the Ministry was still no closer to being solved and there was a great deal of work to do, not only finding the person responsible, but also in making sure that the wizarding community did not overreact to what was surely an isolated incident, perpetrated by a lone madman. Domnall was in charge of the publicity for the case, and liaised with the Daily Prophet regularly. So, on the few occasions that Minerva missed her father, she told herself that he would write, were he not so busy taking care of more important matters. 

Minerva fell into an easy, satisfying routine. She and Jamaica would take turns to breakfast at one another's tables - she met Jamaica's Slytherin friends, Emmy and Karen, and liked them. Then classes would begin. In Transfiguration and Charms, she sat with Jamaica. In her other classes she sat with Helena, or sometimes Alison or Mildred. At dinner she often talked to Cerrig and his friends, and in the evenings she would play her violin in the dormitory, or curl up in her customary chair in the Common Room, doing her homework, throwing paper balls for Kosey to catch and listening contentedly to the conversations around her. 

She was sitting like this, one Saturday evening in early autumn, listening to Persis and Toby explaining to Tully and Mildred why third-years were allowed to visit Hogsmeade, and first-years weren't. Tully was making the point that, Toby, however old he was, still couldn't be relied upon not to bring back things from the joke shop which he would later set off in the Common Room to scare the first-years. It was Tully's opinion that he himself would never exhibit this kind of behaviour when he was a third-year. 

'Oh, just wait and see!' said Toby. 'Your whole life changes in third year; it's impossible to predict what you'll be like then.' 

And suddenly Minerva realised that a whole month had gone by since she had arrived at Hogwarts, and that tomorrow would be her birthday! She had been so busy that it had crept up on her. She picked up Kosey and looked seriously into his face. 

'It's my birthday tomorrow, Kosey,' she said sternly, 'and I hope you have bought me a present. Although I'm sure I don't know how you would manage to wrap it.' The kitten sneezed at her. 

'It's your birthday?' asked Cerrig. He was standing behind the chair, and looking down at her. 'You didn't tell anyone!' 

'I just forgot,' she explained, looking up at him, 'there's been such a lot happening that I didn't notice that we were in October already.' 

'But now I'll have to get you a present!' Cerrig said. 'What would you like?' 

'Oh, there's no need to get me anything, I don't mind,' said Minerva, 'it isn't very important.' 

All the same, she was rather pleased when Cerrig hushed Tully and Toby, to tell everyone about her birthday. 

'Oh, but we must have a cake!' said Helena. 'Birthdays are nothing without cake.' 

'Why stop at a cake?' asked Tully. 'Min, do you realise that you are the first one of us to have a birthday at Hogwarts? I think this calls for an entire party; not just a cake!' 

Minerva blushed with pleasure, and watched with growing excitement as her friends discussed what they would do for the party. 

'We'll go down to the kitchens for some party food,' said Bedevere. 

'Are we allowed to do that?' asked Mildred. 

'Well, not really,' Bedevere replied, 'but the house-elves never tell.' 

'Oh, this is so exciting!' said Alison. 'Our first ever party at Hogwarts! I'm so glad it's your birthday, Min!' 

Minerva slept a little late on Sunday morning, then came downstairs into the Common Room to find a small pile of presents waiting for her. 

'It wasn't easy at such short notice!' said Cerrig. 'But Persis and I went to Hogsmeade this morning to get you something.' 

'Oh, Cerrig, you shouldn't break the rules just for me!' Minerva protested. 

But she was happy enough to receive her present from him - it was a little glass dome, containing a perfect miniature of Hogwarts Castle, including tiny owls flying about the towers, and a tiny squid swimming the lake. When Minerva shook it, a little snowstorm fell, settled gently on the ground, and disappeared after a few moments. When she shook it again, it rained inside the dome, and she thought she saw a flash of lighting. 

Her other presents were almost as exciting. Persis had bought her sweets, Toby and Bedevere gave her a new ribbon for her hair, Alison and Mildred gave her a box of Chocolate Frogs and Helena gave her a picture frame. As she was opening these, an owl arrived and brought her present from her parents and sister - a new book of sheet music for her violin, a box of biscuits and a handmade card from Jessel. When they went down to breakfast, Jamaica hugged her warmly and gave her a book about Animagi, people who could Transfigure themselves into animals. 

Since it was warm and sunny for October, Minerva, Jamaica, Helena and a Hufflepuff girl, Andromeda Smith, spent most of the day sitting on the grass by the lake, doing their homework. Andromeda, or Rommie as she was called, was Helena's particular friend. Minerva liked her; she loved cats too and always spoiled Kosey terribly when she saw him. 

Once the homework was done, they headed back to the castle, in time for dinner in the Great Hall. Jamaica sat at the Gryffindor table, and as usual she piled her plate high with everything. Minerva and Helena, knowing they had the party to look forward to, ate only a little, and smiled with anticipation. They chattered happily over the meal, and they had just begun the pudding when the Headmaster, Professor Dippett, came in and took his place at the centre of the staff table. 

He did not sit down and begin to eat, however. He remained standing, and when he called for silence it was in such a strange voice that a hush fell over the Hall at once and every eye turned to him. 

'I must inform you that... there has been another stabbing,' he said, a little shakily, 'The Minister for Magic was attacked in his home earlier today. He and his wife are dead, and their little girl lies at St Mungo's in a grave condition. I didn't feel that it was proper to tell you about this, particularly the younger students. However, the Deputy Minister for Magic has insisted that the students here be kept well-informed of these events which have rocked the magical community.' 

With that he sat down heavily. There was silence for a moment, then a hum of conversation with became louder every second, as the speculation began. Who would want to kill the Minister for Magic? Who would do it in such a primitive, horrifying,  _Muggle-ish_  way, when every student knew that there were spells which could kill quickly and cleanly? Was there blood, someone wanted to know? What had happened to the little girl? 

Minerva felt sick at the thought of it. She dropped her spoon and pushed her bowl of jam pudding away. The others did the same. Jamaica squeezed her hand under the table, then nodded a goodbye to the others and went followed the other Slytherin first-years, who were already leaving the Hall. After a few moments, Minerva and her friends got up from their seats and left for the Gryffindor Common Room. 

When they arrived, the room was strung with streamers, and the table at the side of the room was covered with cakes and biscuits and all manner of wonderful food. Minerva had all but forgotten about the party. The first-years looked at one another, knowing that they couldn't celebrate tonight. 

They took the streamers down and covered the food up, then sat to do their homework, which much less chatter than usual. The other Gryffindors drifted in soon after. Nobody seemed to want to stay up late, and soon people began to leave for the dormitories. Minerva sat and watched everyone go, gently stroking Kosey, who was dozing in her lap. 

'I'm sorry that this ruined your birthday, Min,' Cerrig said, from where he was writing an essay on the floor by the fire. 

'It doesn't matter,' she replied, 'I'll have other birthdays. But that poor little girl! It's so awful. Who would do such a thing, Cerrig?' 

'I don't know. But don't be sad, Min, I hate to see you upset.' 

She managed a brief smile. 

Will you let me try to cheer you up?' he asked. 

'Alright,' said Minerva. 

'Come with me, then.' 

He stood up and moved towards the exit. 

'Are you coming?' he asked, when Minerva hesitated. 

She shrugged and followed him. 

'Won't we get in trouble for being out at night?' she asked. 

'It's not very late yet; not even ten o clock. And anyway, we won't get caught.' 

They made their way down the stairs and into the Entrance Hall, hiding from the caretaker only once. Then Cerrig led the way as they slipped out of the great oak doors and into the bright moonlight. It was chilly, and Minerva tucked her hands into her robe to keep them warm. She realised where they were going as Cerrig headed west, towards the Quidditch pitch. When they arrived, he silently entered the broomshed, brought out a broom and handed it to Minerva. 

'You've never flown, have you,' he said. 

Minerva shook her head. 

'Well, you're going to now. Come on.' 

They walked onto the empty Quidditch pitch. Minerva felt a little nervous; she wasn't sure she had ever actually broken a rule before, but she was more anxious about flying. What if she couldn't do it? 

'Don't worry,' said Cerrig, seeming to know what she was thinking, 'I'm sure you'll be fine. Just lay the broom on the ground, move your hand on it, and say "up".' 

'Up!' said Minerva, and to her delight, the broom leapt into her hand immediately, quivering gently. 

She climbed on, and Cerrig showed her how to grip the handle properly, and how to give the broom commands. 

'Now, just kick off from the ground,' he said, 'and see what you can do. No need to go very high or fast just yet.' 

Minerva pushed away gently, and suddenly she was in the air, and soaring! It was easier than she had expected, and she moved a little higher and made a few experimental circles of the Quidditch pitch, getting quicker every time. This was bliss! She could feel the wind blowing about her, and it almost seemed as though it was helping her along, pushing her in the right direction. She tried a few quick turns, remembering what Cerrig had taught her about changing direction, and after a few attempts, she could manage it smoothly. She laughed, briefly letting go with one hand to wave at Cerrig, who was watching from the ground, looking as small as one of the inhabitants of Jessel's dollhouse. He waved back, smiling. 

Eventually, she slowed the broom and glided down to earth, landing with a small bump. 

'That was wonderful!' she gasped. 

'I thought you might enjoy it,' smiled Cerrig, 'now, it really is late, and if we get caught, we really  _will_  be in trouble now. Come on, let's go.' 

They returned to the castle and the Gryffindor dormitory. Cerrig watched out carefully for any teachers who might be on the prowl, but Minerva couldn't stop thinking about how it had felt to fly, actually fly, like a bird. She was in a daze all the way back to the Common Room. When they got there, she flung her arms around Cerrig to hug him. 

'Thank you!' she said, 'That was wonderful! It was the best birthday present I could have wished for!' 


	4. Chapter 4

The mood at Hogwarts remained subdued for some time, as did the mood of the wizarding world in general. Some of the students had the Daily Prophet delivered, and they reported that the pages were full of speculation over the murders, and very little else. Despite all the talk about it, no-one seemed close to finding the perpetrator. Security at Hogwarts was stepped up. 

Of course, all of this worried Minerva, but for practical purposes her life went on as usual. She continued to excel at all of her subjects, particularly Transfiguration. She was content in her little circle of friends. All was well in her small sphere. 

Kosey was getting much bigger now. One November evening, Minerva had finished her homework and was sitting cross-legged on the hearth rug in the Gryffindor Common Room, letting the kitten pounce on her fingers repeatedly. He never seemed to get tired of it. 

'You know, if you ever have to hunt for your food, it won't just sit there and let itself be pounced on,' she remarked idly to the kitten, 'it will want to escape, like this...' 

As he pounced, she drew her hand quickly away. Kosey landed on nothing, looked around for a moment with a confused expression, and then comprehension dawned. He gave Minerva a hurt look, and to apologise for her betrayal she picked him up and hugged him to her chest, making soft cat noises at him. He meowed loudly back. 

'Can't you make that cat be quiet?' asked Gail Turberry, another first year girl, from one of the chairs. 

'I'm sorry, Gail, I didn't realise we were disturbing you,' said Minerva, 'but Kosey was just having fun.' 

'Well, some of us are busy, and could do without the distraction,' said Gail. 

'You're reading a fashion magazine,' Minerva pointed out. 

Gail just glared at her in reply and carried on reading. Minerva felt a little uncomfortable staying where she was, so she went over to sit with Alison, Tully and Bevan on the other side of the room. 

Later that evening, as the first-years were drifting to bed, Gail whispered something to her friend, Lucy Marley, then the two of them looked at Minerva and burst out laughing. Confused, Minerva looked enquiringly at them, but they just turned away, still smiling, and carried on getting ready for bed. Minerva was utterly in the dark as to what they might have been talking about. Were they making fun of her? Why would they do that? 

She shook her head, deciding not to worry about it. Other children confused her sometimes; occasionally their behaviour surprised her, or she wasn't sure what they meant when they said things. She wasn't used to being around so many of them. Maybe this was just another thing that she would have to get used to. 

However, in Transfiguration the next day, Minerva was forced to conclude that there was more going on than simply her inexperience with people her own age. Gail and Lucy sat behind Minerva and Jamaica, and when Minerva, as usual, managed her spell easily at the first try, she heard a snigger behind her, and a whisper that sounded suspiciously like "show-off". 

She ignored it, and concentrated on helping Jamaica with her spell, but a little later she heard: 

'...that stupid cat of hers, with the one white ear, I can't stand the creature...' 

She almost turned around to demand to know why they were saying things about Kosey, but something stopped her. Was it fear? Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. No, she just didn't want to make trouble unnecessarily. 

The rest of the lesson went without incident, and as she and Jamaica headed down to the Great Hall for lunch, Minerva said: 

'Jamaica? Do you think I'm a show-off?' 

'Min, of course not!' 

Minerva smiled with relief. 

'You mustn't let Gail and Lucy bother you,' Jamaica continued, 'I know they've been telling people nasty things about you, but really, they're just jealous that you're cleverer than them.' 

Minerva nodded and smiled, but she was disturbed to find that Gail and Lucy had already been saying things about her, and she hadn't even noticed until last night. It made her wonder what other things people might be saying about her without her knowledge. Suddenly, Hogwarts didn't feel like such a safe place any more. 

The next morning brought a worry of a different nature. Minerva wasn't aware of it at first - she sat quietly at breakfast, listening to the others talk, and soon she noticed that the volume of conversation in the Great Hall was higher than was customary so early in the morning. Looking around, she saw that the few copies of the Daily Prophet belonging to students were being passed around quickly, with much exclamation. 

'Min, over here,' said Cerrig, beckoning her further down the table to where he, Persis, Toby and Bedevere were bending over Bedevere's copy of the paper. 

She looked over Cerrig's shoulder to see the headline: 

**"Muggle to blame for Ministry attacks?"**

Confused, she leaned in closer to read the paragraph beneath the words: 

_"A spokesman for the Ministry of Magic today announced that, following the lack of success in the search for the murderer of the Minister for Magic,_   _Sholto Pevensie, his wife,_   _Desiderata Pevensie, and a Ministry employee, Jeremy Sherwin, the investigation team were widening their search to include Muggles._

_'There have been cases of Muggles discovering the Wizarding World,' said Domnall McGonagall, Public Liaison. 'And we must not ignore the fact that these killings were unusually Muggle-like._   _We have not yet exhausted our leads in the magical community;_   _however_   _it seems prudent to cast our net a little wider in this case.'_

Minerva stopped reading then. The rest of the article was made up of opinion from various experts and wizards-on-the-street. 

'Minerva, is that your father?' asked Persis. 

'You didn't tell us he was on this case!' said Toby. 'Do you know anything about it? Has your father told you anything?' 

Minerva shook her head. 

'But, do you really think it might have been a Muggle who did it?' Bedevere asked. 

Minerva shrugged, dismayed that everyone was looking at her, expecting her to tell them something. She was rescued when Helena, Alison and Mildred came to see what the fuss was about. 

'But, how could a Muggle kill a wizard?' Alison asked. 'I mean, surely an ordinary stab wound wouldn't be enough to finish off the Minister for Magic?' 

'How do you know?' asked Toby. 

'Well, it's obvious, isn't it?' Mildred said. 'I mean, everyone knows that Magical folk are much more difficult to injure than Muggles. Even if the Minister was stabbed, surely it wouldn't kill him outright?' 

'But why wouldn't they just use a curse or something?' asked Alison. 

Their speculation was cut short then, as the bell rang for their first lesson, which was Transfiguration. 

'Did you hear what people have been saying?' Jamaica whispered to Minerva as they tried to Transfigure a piece of string into a ribbon. 

'What have people been saying?' asked Minerva, watching with satisfaction as her string turned a deep red and began to flatten out. 

'About a Muggle killing Minister Pevensie.' 

'Yes, I heard. Do people really believe it?' 

'Well, some folk at the Slytherin table seem to think it's possible. But most people think that it's more likely to be a Muggle-born Wizard than a Muggle.' 

'Well,' Minerva tipped her head to one side, considering, 'that might explain why they chose a Muggle method, but were able to kill a Wizard...' 

'Yes, I suppose so.' Jamaica tipped her head thoughtfully to one side. 'Anyway, will you please show me this again? I really don't think I have the knack of it yet...' 

Autumn turned into winter, and still there were no firm leads on the murderer. But something was happening at Hogwarts. One morning the Gryffindor first-years were sitting all together at the breakfast table, when Helena arrived, late as usual. 

'Morning!' she said, smiling at everyone and taking the available seat next to Gail. Gail didn't smile back, and after a moment she got up, taking her breakfast with her, and moved further down the table. Lucy followed. 

'What was that about?' asked Mildred, as Helena gazed after the two girls. 

Helena shrugged, confused. But that was only the beginning. Over the next few weeks, Gail and Lucy continued to avoid Helena, and so did some of the other students from wizarding families. A distinct divide was beginning to develop between the Muggle-born students and the others. Every week there was some new story in the Prophet about dangerous Muggles, or an article about how the bloodlines were being contaminated by people who should never have learned about the wizarding world at all. 

'I don't understand,' Minerva said to Helena as they sat in the Common Room doing their History of Magic homework one cold evening, 'why should it matter if people are Muggle-born or not?' 

'Well, they say the murderer is Muggle-born, don't they?' Helena said bitterly, stabbing her quill into her parchment. 

'But why should that matter? It doesn't mean every Muggle-born is a murderer! And they still don't even know who did it!' 

'People are people,' Helena shrugged, 'and what's the Sword of Tenir?' 

'Hmm?' 

'Question seven.' 

'Oh... it's a myth, I think. My father told it to me once. Tenir Malfoi was an ancient wizard and he created a sword that would kill each time it was used, no matter whether the wound was large or small.' 

Helena's eyes widened. 

'Well then, why couldn't it be that that the murderer is using? Maybe you should write to your father and tell him!' 

'I don't think so,' said Minerva, 'the sword is just a myth, and anyway the end of the story said that Tenir caused such devastation with the sword that Helga Hufflepuff cursed it so that no man could wield it.' 

'Ooh... well, maybe that isn't it then, but it's a good story.' 

Minerva smiled and turned to her own homework. She had not long finished it when Gail and Lucy entered, with their usual glare at Helena and Minerva. There were only a few seats left, so they were forced to sit close to the two girls, and soon Minerva felt so intimidated that she left for bed, Helena close behind. 

'I don't understand why everyone can't just like one another,' Minerva said as she changed into her nightdress. 

She got into bed, settled Kosey at the foot and lay down, but she didn't sleep for a long time. 

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching now. The first snow fell on Hogwarts, and it made Minerva laugh to see Jamaica so excited about it. Minerva's village was covered in snow for most of the winter, but for Jamaica it was still a novelty. 

One Saturday lunchtime, Jamaica flew into the Great Hall, shaking snow from her hair, and ran to where Minerva sat quietly eating a sandwich and rereading her animagi book. 

'Min, Min, look, I just got a letter!' she cried, settling on the bench and waving the letter in front of Minerva's face too fast for her to even see. 

'And what does it say?' asked Minerva, carefully marking her place before turning her full attention to her friend. 

'It says my parents want to invite you to ours for Christmas! Please say you'll come, please Min! We'll have so much fun!' 

'Really? I'd love to!' 

'Will you write to your parents and ask this very minute?' 

Jamaica was so excited that she was hopping up and down. Minerva dashed off a note to her mother and the two of them ran to the Owlery to send it, then went to join the snowball fights outside. Minerva's mother wrote back almost immediately, granting her permission and suggesting that Minerva invite Jamaica back for Hogmanay. There followed another frantic exchange of letters, and the whole thing was settled by that evening. Minerva would go home with Jamaica and stay until Boxing Day, when she and Jamaica would travel up to Scotland to spend the rest of the holiday with the McGonagalls. 

During the day it all seemed like such an exciting prospect, but lying in bed that night Minerva found that her mind was racing, and she was full of uncertainty. She had never stayed at someone else's home before, and she had certainly never been away for Christmas. She tossed and turned for hours, and when she finally slept she dreamed that Jamaica's mother turned into a dragon and chased her around Diagon Alley. 

Every morning that week Jamaica greeted her with more excitement, and Minerva always smiled and tried to seem excited too, but the churning feeling in her belly only got worse, and by the time they boarded the Hogwarts Express to go home, her heart was hammering madly, and she didn't feel equal to joining in with the game of Exploding Snap that Jamaica, Helena, Rommie and Karen were playing. She watched quietly, and nobody seemed to notice that anything was amiss with her. 

They got off the train in a big crowd, everyone hugging and calling goodbye to their friends before rushing to greet their parents. 

'Have a good holiday, Min bach!' Cerrig called as he was swallowed up in the throng. 

Minerva and Jamaica held hands tightly for fear of being separated as they said goodbye, in quick succession, to Helena, Rommie, Karen, Emmy, Mildred, Tully, Alison and Bevan. They didn't say goodbye to Gail and Lucy, but they were glad to see them leave all the same. 

When the crowd at last thinned out a little, Jamaica gave a cry of delight and, still holding Minerva's hand, ran down the platform to greet her family. 

Whatever worries Minerva had had about Jamaica's family were dispelled within moments. Jamaica's mother was short, and cheerful, and she hugged Minerva warmly as well as Jamaica. Jamaica's father shook her hand and said he was pleased to meet her, and then brought out chocolate for the two girls and took their trunks for them, smiling all the while. The four little brothers were fascinated by Minerva and wanted to ask her so many questions that she felt almost dizzy. 

After all the greetings, they all caught the bus to Jamaica's home in Streatham. Her house was as wonderful as her family. It was a good deal messier than the McGonagall home, but it was bright and warm and there were paintings all over the walls, done the Muggle way - Jamaica's mother was an artist. 

Jamaica had her own room, and there was a little camp bed made up there for Minerva. There were pictures of film stars pinned up all over the walls, so many that Minerva couldn't even see what colour the wallpaper was. Also, Jamaica had her own record player, and a big stack of records. The two of them played them in the evenings, sitting on Jamaica's bed. During the day they helped Jamaica's mother around the house, or sometimes they covered the big kitchen table with newspaper and painted pictures. A few times, when the weather was milder, they played football in the back garden with Jamaica's brothers. Terry and Alex were very good, Isaac tried hard, and Jules was really too small to kick a ball properly. Jamaica was good too, but Minerva wasn't, so if Terry, Isaac and Minerva played against Alex, Jules and Jamaica, they were fairly evenly matched. Minerva wrote long letters to Jessel and her mother every evening, and before she knew it it was Christmas Eve and Jamaica's mother was telling them goodnight and turning off the light. 

'You know, I don't think I'll  _ever_  get to sleep!' said Jamaica. 'I'm  _far_  too excited! Aren't you, Min?' 

'Oh, I don't know,' said Minerva, 'perhaps it will take us longer than usual because of being so excited, but I expect we'll be fast asleep before too long. After all, we've been very busy today, and I don't know about you, but I'm most definitely tired.' 

Jamaica snored loudly. Minerva chuckled and rolled over, and was soon asleep too. 

Minerva awoke to the sound of Jules banging the drum which he had evidently got for Christmas and shouting unintelligibly outside their door. She and Jamaica grinned at one another and ran downstairs, still in their nightdresses. The space under the tree was piled with presents. 

'I always get heaps for Christmas!' Jamaica said happily. 'I have so many relatives!' 

Minerva just had her parents and Jessel, but that was enough for her, especially since her presents from them were under the tree too. 

'Look, my mother sent you one!' Minerva said, passing Jamaica the parcel. 

The two of them opened their presents, and even though Jamaica had many more, she finished before Minerva. She tore the paper off each present as if there was a time limit, and barely glanced at each gift before moving on to the next. Minerva only got six - one from her parents, another from Jessel, one from Jamaica's parents, one from Jamaica, one from Helena and one from Cerrig. This one was small, and she opened it last. 

'A spoon?' said Jamaica incredulously. 

'It does seem an odd sort of gift,' Minerva agreed, 'but it is rather pretty.' 

The spoon was made of wood, and carved intricately with strange symbols. Minerva made up her mind to ask Cerrig about it when she got back to school. In the meantime, there was Christmas to be enjoyed, and enjoy it they did. All day there were games and charades and treasure hunts, and Jamaica's father told them Christmas stories. There were all kinds of sweets and good things to eat, but they tried to save their appetites for the enormous Christmas dinner. In the evening they sang carols - Minerva didn't know many but they were easy to learn. By the time she and Jamaica fell into bed it was almost midnight, and Minerva felt as though she had never had a more exciting day in her life. 

The next afternoon, Jamaica's father took them by Portkey to the McGonagall house, where Minerva's mother was waiting to meet them at the door. Jessel was there too, and she gave a squeal of delight when she saw Minerva and jumped into her arms, hugging her tightly. Minerva's mother gave Jamaica a hug of welcome, and the three girls ran up to the bedroom to play while Minerva's mother and Jamaica's father talked in the kitchen. 

'I can't believe you're back! Did you like Christmas? Did you bring me anything from London? Oh, look how big Kosey has got!' Jessel cried. 

'I  _adore_  your room! And your house is so lovely! And your mother is so pretty! You didn't tell me you lived in the middle of nowhere!' exclaimed Jamaica at the same time. 

Minerva just smiled at both of them. 

The next few days passed as cheerfully as the days in London had. Jamaica and Jessel got on famously, and they were often happy to do nothing but run about shouting in the deep snow, while Minerva watched with a smile. Minerva ran about too, sometimes, but the combined energy of Jessel and Jamaica was too much for her to keep up with. The evenings were spent in front of the fire, often wrapped in blankets. Minerva and Jamaica did their holiday homework, and Jessel played with Kosey. Minerva's father was rarely at home - he was still very busy, but he refused to talk about the progress of the investigation, and since they didn't take the Daily Prophet, the girls had no idea whether the murders were any closer to being solved. When Domnall McGonagall was home, though, he was perfectly friendly, if a little distracted, which was more than Minerva had hoped for. 

In no time at all, Hogmanay was upon them. Domnall spent a rare full day at home and the girls helped him to build the bonfire in the garden. Sarah was in the kitchen all day preparing a feast, and as evening fell they all dressed in their best clothes - Domnall in his kilt, Minerva, Jessel and Sarah in their long skirts and shawls, and Jamaica in her party frock - and went into the living room, which was decorated beautifully with streamers and flags. Domnall got out his accordion and began to play, and Minerva, Jessel and Sarah taught Jamaica the dances they did every year, with whirling and clapping and excited shouts from Jessel. Then, after a while, Minerva fetched her violin and played a fast, lively melody, and Domnall and Sarah danced, while Jessel and Jamaica clapped along. Then they went outside to dance around the bonfire, which Domnall lit with a spell. When they were too tired to dance any more, he gave them each sticks, lit the ends and charmed them so that they could draw on the sky in fire. They drew beautiful pictures and patterns until it was midnight, then they all sang Auld Lang Syne at the tops of their voices, and everybody hugged and kissed everybody else. 

Jessel was so sleepy that Domnall had to carry her to bed, and Minerva and Jamaica followed not long after. 

'That was wonderful!' Jamaica said sleepily as she crawled under the covers. 'You have the best family ever, Min.' 

As Minerva fell asleep, she thought perhaps she did. 


	5. Chapter 5

It was early morning, still dark outside and nowhere near time to get up. Jamaica and Jessel slept soundly, tired out after the festivities of the night before. Minerva was awake, and lying very still. She had woken up, suddenly, a few minutes ago. She had heard a noise, a thud downstairs. It was probably Kosey playing, or one of her parents going to the kitchen to fetch a drink. Still she felt uneasy, and strained to listen out for other noises, breathing slowly through her nose. 

There was a creak. That was the bottom stair. Her parents knew it was there and usually avoided it because of the noise it made. Perhaps they had forgotten. Minerva reached out and took her wand from her bedside table. She knew she wasn't supposed to use it in the holidays, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Not that anything was the matter, of course. Everything was fine. Probably. 

There were footsteps now, on the stairs. Whoever it was was trying to be very quiet, but Minerva had very good ears. It sounded as though they were wearing shoes. Who would be wearing shoes in the middle of the night? Her father had a pair of slippers for the house and her mother never wore shoes indoors. 

Now the thudding of her heart was threatening to drown out the footsteps as they reached the landing. Minerva took a deep breath. What should she do? Should she call out for her parents? Should she go and see? 

The footsteps approached the bedroom door and Minerva stifled a sudden sob, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her knees. 

Suddenly, the door swung open and all Minerva saw was a tall, dark figure, and a voice said: 

'Petrificus...' 

But Minerva aimed her wand squarely at the figure and cried: 'Expelliarmus!' just like they had been taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts class, so loudly that her voice rang in her own ears. 

The stranger thudded backwards against the door frame and they must have dropped their wand because they bent down, and Minerva screamed again to wake her parents, whose room was down the corridor. Jamaica and Jessel were awake and they began to scream too. Minerva dragged Jessel from her bed and hurriedly pushed her under it as the stranger got up again, muttering another incantation. 

'Expell...' Minerva managed, but the stranger must have finished his spell, because she and Jamaica were both thrown to the floor. 

Minerva tried to raise her wand again, but she couldn't move, not even her eyes. She heard a loud crack, but she was unable to see where it had come from. All she could see was the ceiling and a swooping shadow... 

'Stupefy!' 

And suddenly Minerva's father was there and the light came on and her mother was there too, asking her if she could move, and her father performed a counter-curse and suddenly she could sit up, and Jamaica was sitting up too. 

There was a man lying on the floor, stunned. A long, sharp sword lay on one side of him, and his wand on the other. 

Jessel crawled out from under the bed and into her mother's arms, Jamaica and Minerva scrambled to be included and Sarah hugged the three of them close as Domnall levitated the unconscious intruder out of the room. 

* * * 

A large dollop of time seemed to pass by without Minerva realising it, because the next thing she knew, she, Jamaica and Jessel were sitting on the sofa, wrapped in blankets with mugs of cocoa, while a dozen or more Ministry officials wandered the house. Minerva's mother seemed at a loss for what to do, as she darted between the kitchen and the sitting room every few moments. 

One of the Ministry people, a plump, smiling lady with a notebook in one hand and a quill stuck behind her ear, came and sat down in the armchair opposite the three girls. 

'Hello, dears,' she smiled. 'My name is Dinah, and I was just wondering if I might ask you a few questions? Is that alright?' 

The three of them nodded. 

'Well, then, first of all, may I have your names? I believe  _you_  must be Minerva and  _you_  must be Jessel, but who might you be, young lady?' 

'I'm Jamaica Jordan.' 

'She's my best friend,' Minerva explained. 'She's staying with us for Hogmanay.' 

Dinah nodded and smiled and wrote this down. 

'Now, Minerva,' she continued, 'I hear that you're the hero of the hour, so I'm just going to ask you a few questions about your intruder. If you feel upset at any point we can just stop and do something else for a while, alright?' 

'Alright.' 

'Good girl. First of all, could you describe to me what happened in your own words?' 

Minerva did so, being careful not to leave anything out. Dinah asked her a few questions, then asked Jessel and Jamaica a few questions too. 

'Thank you girls, that was very helpful,' Dinah said once she had finished. 'You're all very brave.' 

'Luker?' called a voice from the kitchen. 

'Oops, that's me,' said Dinah. 'I'll see you young ladies later, I hope.' 

As she hurried away, the three girls looked at one another. 

'I still don't understand,' said Jamaica. 'Who is that man? Why did he come to your house?' 

'He wanted to kill us!' said Jessel. 'Didn't you see the size of that sword? He was going to chop us up into tiny bits!' 

'But why?' asked Jamaica. 

Jessel shrugged. Minerva shrugged off her blanket and padded across to the kitchen door. She opened it and entered. 

Her parents and several Ministry officials were standing around the kitchen table, on which were laid the sword and the wand. The wand was vibrating slightly, and glowing with a faint orange light. 

'We'll need to do a few more charms to be sure, but it seems that...' one of the men said. 

Sarah noticed her presence, and let out a cry of alarm. 

'Min! You shouldn't be in here!' 

She hurried to her daughter and put her arms around her. 

'But Mama, I want to know what's happening! Nobody will tell me!' 

'Because you don't need to know, young lady,' said Domnall. 

'But I do!' Minerva protested. 'I want to know who that man was! Why he was in our house!' 

'Min, darling, we don't want you to be scared...' Sarah began. 

'I  _am_  scared! A stranger came into our house with a sword! I just want to know why!' 

She stopped, surprised at herself for the outburst. 

'She did manage to disarm him,' pointed out Dinah, from the other end of the kitchen. 'Perhaps she ought to know, Domnall?' 

'I'll find out anyway,' said Minerva. 

'I daresay you will,' Domnall sighed. 'Alright then, Dinah, would you please explain to Minerva what's going on?' 

'Certainly,' said Dinah, winking at Minerva. 'Let's go into the living room to talk.' 

So they did. Jamaica and Jessel had not moved from where they sat, and Minerva and Dinah resumed their seats. 

'What do  _you_  think is going on?' Dinah asked. 

'Was the man who came into our room the same man that killed Minister Pevensie?' Jamaica asked. 

Minerva's stared at her friend. That had not even occurred to her. 

'Jamaica, we think you may be right,' said Dinah. 'The man who broke in is called Wolfram Jesper. We found this out by tracing his wand. Minerva, what we were doing in the kitchen just now, was trying to find out what other spells his wand has performed recently. We're expecting to find that he used it to break into the Minister's house, among other things.' 

'What about the sword?' Minerva asked. 

'We don't know,' said Dinah. 'We have been unable to determine anything about it so far. Experts from the Ministry will be checking it out.' 

'But why would he come here?' asked Jessel, bewildered. 

'Father's name was in the paper...' Minerva realised. 

'That's right,' said Dinah. 'Your father has been the public face of the investigation into the murders - it's very possible that he was targeted for this reason.' 

Minerva shivered. It was horrible to think that they might all have been killed, might all be lying dead right now if she hadn't happened to be awake. She pictured the people who were in the kitchen now investigating a murder instead of just an intruder, examining the lifeless bodies of the McGonagalls and Jamaica, trying to find out who had murdered them, instead of drinking cups of coffee and talking quite normally about the intruder's wand. 

A little later, some men came to take away Wolfram Jesper. People were still milling about the house, but with the intruder gone, it was easier to remember that it was still not really morning, and Minerva was still very tired. Jessel's eyes were already closing, and Minerva tucked the blanket around her sister's little shoulders and wrapped an arm around her. Jamaica shuffled across the sofa, closer to Minerva, and the three girls fell asleep in a huddle under the blankets. 

* * * 

Nobody seemed particularly anxious to let Minerva and Jamaica know exactly what had happened that night, and so when they returned to Hogwarts for the new term several days later, they were ill-equipped for the barrage of questions that greeted them. 

'Minerva, we saw you in the paper!' 

'Jamaica, is it true?' 

'Did you catch that man?' 

'Did you get murdered?' 

'Is he the same man who killed the Minister?' 

'What's going to happen to him now?' 

'Were you very frightened?' 

Minerva and Jamaica, who had barely even stepped into the Great Hall before the explosion of curiosity, stood helplessly, surrounded by eager pupils clamouring for details they did not have. They were grateful when the Headmaster called for order, and they went to sit down at their House tables. Helena, Alison and Mildred continued to whisper questions at Minerva as Professor Dippet made the start-of-term announcements. 

'Min, are you alright?' Alison asked. 'We heard the most dreadful stories...' 

'What stories?' asked Helena, who was Muggle-born and whose parents didn't take the Daily Prophet. 

'About the murderer in Min's house!' cried Mildred. Several teachers shushed her. She shrugged, and carried on a little more quietly. 'Didn't you hear, Helena? A man came to Min's house to murder her!' 

'And Jamaica was there too!' added Alison. 

But Professor Dippet was glaring at them, and so they were forced to be quiet for the time being. 

The questioning began again as the girls got ready for bed that evening. 

'So, what really happened, Min?' asked Alison, buttoning up her nightdress. 

'I'm still not entirely sure,' said Minerva honestly, but Alison, Mildred and Helena gathered on her bed to hear as much of the story as she knew, gasping and exclaiming at all the exciting bits. 

It was a new feeling for Minerva, being the centre of attention like this, and to her surprise she rather enjoyed it, adding dramatic sound effects to the tale as well as dialogue. 

'Why can't she pipe down?' muttered Gail to Lucy, quite audibly from her bed at the other end of the dormitory. 

'I'm sorry, Gail, were you trying to sleep?' called Minerva. 'It looked to me as though you were reading, but if you'd like to sleep I can stop.' 

'Don't stop on her account, Min!' Alison cried. 'We want to hear the end!' 

'Yes, ignore her, Min, do go on!' said Helena. 

But Minerva felt Gail's glare on her back, and she summarised the rest of the tale in 

two sentences before crawling under the covers. The other girls, sighing, went back to their own beds and did the same. 

* * * 

It was early the next morning when Minerva saw Cerrig for the first time since before Christmas. She had woken early, and gone down to breakfast quickly in order to avoid a fresh barrage of questions. Sure enough, the Great Hall was almost empty, and the people who were studious enough to get up this early were not the types to hound her with questions. 

Cerrig was the only person at the Gryffindor table. She sat opposite him and helped herself to some cereal. 

'I hear you had an adventure,' he said, nonchalantly. 

She shrugged. 'I'd rather not talk about it. How was your Christmas?' 

He beamed at her. 'It was marvellous, thank you! We did all sorts of things, all the 

family came to stay, my Mam cooked all the best food and we sang all the best songs. Nothing quite like a Welsh Christmas, Min.' 

'I'm sure there isn't!' she laughed. 

'So when am I taking you flying again?' he asked, once he had finished regaling her with tales of his holidays. 

'Oh, Cerrig, would you really?' 

'Of course I would - you showed a lot of promise that last time I took you out. It would be a shame to waste your talent. I can see you joining the Quidditch team in a year or two!' 

'My father doesn't approve of Quidditch...' she said. 

'And what does that have to do with anything? Does he need to know? Anyway, you can't even try for the team until next year, so no point worrying too much about it just yet.' 

Minerva grinned delightedly at him. 

'So, maybe Wednesday evening?' 

'Sounds excellent!' she said, scooping up her cereal with a flourish. 

Suddenly, she remember what she had been going to ask him. 

'Cerrig, why did you send me a spoon for Christmas?' 

It looked as though Cerrig blushed, but he was always so rosy-cheeked anyway that she couldn't be certain. 

'It's just a Welsh tradition. For good luck. Well, anyway, I have to go. See you later, Min bach!' 

He grinned at her and dashed out of the Great Hall. 

Min helped herself to some more cereal, and eventually the others drifted down to breakfast. Helena, always sleepy, arrived just as the post owls were descending  _en masse_  towards the tables, and had to run ducking underneath the flurry of feathers to get to her seat. Alison's mother had taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet for her over Christmas, and she took it from the owl with a dignified air. She unfolded it and spread it out on the table to read the front page. 

'Minerva, look!' 

Minerva jumped to see the paper, and sure enough, there was a picture of her family. It was beside a much larger picture of the man who had broken into their house - Wolfram Jesper. 

'Read it to us, Alison!' said Mildred. 

Alison cleared her throat. 'The trial by Wizengamot of Wolfram Jesper, accused of the murders of Jeremy Sherwin, Minister for Magic Sholto Pevensie and Mrs Desiderata Pevensie, was no closer to a conclusion yesterday. Mr Jesper also stood accused of grievously injuring Malva Pevensie and attempting the murder of Ministry Public Liaison Domnall McGonagall and his family, and he was apprehended in the McGonagall family home several days ago. The Wizengamot has as yet been unable to reach a verdict, due to the confusing nature of the crimes.' 

Alison paused for breath. 

'Keep going, keep going!' cried Helena. 

'The weapon used in all three murders appears now to be the fabled Sword of Tenir. Previously believed to be a legend, the deadly Sword was cursed by Helga Hufflepuff so that no man could wield it. Ministry experts have determined that the curse remains, and so it is not possible that Mr Jesper could have used it to commit the murders, although it was found in the McGonagall residence. He certainly performed the Body-Bind Curse on members of the McGonagall family, but did he commit the murders? Turn to page nine for a detailed analysis.' 

Alison stopped, turned to page nine, then shrugged and put down the paper. 

'That's all?' asked Mildred. 'Isn't there any more?' 

'Lots more,' said Alison, 'but it doesn't look as though anyone has any more idea of what's going on than we do, at present.' 

'But, why use the Sword of Tenir when a curse would do just as well?' Minerva asked. 

'And who could have been the one to use it?' said Helena. 

'And why kill those people in the first place?' asked Alison. 

And, although they debated the question all the way through breakfast and right through the day, they still knew no more than the Daily Prophet. 


End file.
